


Ka Wahine Noho a i Kīlauea

by Dracoduceus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hawaiian mythology - Freeform, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Urban Legends, background mission shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: While driving to the safe house before a mission, Hanzo and McCree encounter a stranger on the road who isn't what she appears to be.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 13
Kudos: 103





	Ka Wahine Noho a i Kīlauea

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on a [song about the Hawaiian volcano and the goddess that lives there](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VqqvsrP070). Inspired by discussions of local superstitions and beliefs. 
> 
> I grew up visiting my cousins on the Big Island and every once in a while we'd drive over to the volcano and the national park around it. The volcanic soil is incredibly fertile so enormous portions of the island are very green. Leading up to the "live" areas of the volcano, it is covered in trees and ferns. 
> 
> Areas that have active flows are enormous barren wastelands of burned and dried trees and dark paths of shiny black stone. There's a kind of weight to the place as you look over the calderas or even walk through old lava tubes surrounded by a rainforest. 
> 
> Anyway, this story is based off of the area around the volcano and the observatories there. It is also based off of urban legends and stories I grew up hearing of the area.

“It’s not physically possible to be lost,” McCree laughed.

“Then where _are_ we?” Hanzo asked sourly, using the light of his phone to peer at the map in his lap.

McCree shrugged. “Somewhere on Saddle Road,” he said easily, as if the answer didn’t matter to him. He reached out and squeezed Hanzo's hand. “Relax, Han. This is the right road, it’s just long as all fuck.”

“And goes through an uninhabited part of the island,” Hanzo muttered. “Do we _know_ that this is the right way?”

“I remember Winston talking about Saddle Road,” McCree replied. “And it’s the only road that goes anywhere near the safehouse. _And_ they said that even _then_ we’ll still need to do some dirt road driving.”

Hanzo scoffed. “Is that why we have this gas-powered car?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” McCree laughed.

“It smells.”

McCree laughed again. “Like me?” Hanzo looked away with a low mutter of frustration. It was drowned out by the rumble of the car’s old engine and the hiss of the tires on the road. Unlike most old roads, it wasn’t even made of asphalt, just pounded sand and gravel.

Hanzo was incredibly thankful that they hadn’t arrived during the rainy season or they never would have gotten _anywhere_.

For the moment he let McCree fiddle with the radio as he stared out the window at the sky. At first the radio spat static—it was an old car that did not have a satellite hookup for music, and with the remote nature of their location, Hanzo wasn’t sure if modern radios would work well either—but then a moment later a song came through, unnervingly clear after the garbled music they had heard earlier in the night. It was a song sung in an unnerving, quavering voice [accompanied by a sharp-sounding drum that sounded the beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VqqvsrP070). 

This part of the world was one of the most remote. With no light or sound pollution, and soaring heights above sea level, this kind of place was ideal for long-range space telescopes.

Hanzo would have thought that these days, with the Horizon Lunar Colony (ignoring The Incident and its eventual closing), he would have thought that these Earth-bound telescopes would have been forgotten. He was almost…pleased to be proven wrong. At least, in this case. 

It seemed that someone in this wide world full of many great and terrible things, there was still someone curious enough to look up at the stars and marvel.

The sky here was clear, painted in breathtaking colors of cream and silver and purple. It was almost unreal, like a painting that couldn’t possibly be real.

In the light of the moon, the sandy, ashy soil was washed in shades of grey and silver. In contrast, the paths drawn by lava were shiny black. They made strange shapes: in some places jagged peaks like broken glass and in other places smooth globs like a melted candle.

The black scars of lava sometimes crossed the road and in these places they either had to drive over the skeleton of an old flow or, on one memorable occasion, drove _through_ it, in a path that someone had painstakingly carved through.

Hanzo wondered what it would have looked like in the daytime; what it would have looked like when the lava was still hot. The image that was brought to mind was a slow drip like wax meandering along the road. Or was it fast, like the eruption of Vesuvius that killed Herculaneum and Pompeii?

He shook his head to himself. Geology—or rather, volcanology—wasn’t his strong suit. Was this a slow kind of volcano? That oozed along like toothpaste squeezed out of the tube? Or was this the explosive kind? The haunting shapes hinted at the former, but the jagged teeth of the brittle black rocks they sometimes passed made Hanzo wonder if it was the latter.

When he couldn’t bear to look at those black marks any longer, he looked back at the sky, tipping his head back to look through the sunroof to stare at the moon. The sky was cloudless so he could almost feel its silver light, could see the breathtaking clouds of a galaxy system so far away.

The car rocked and Hanzo leaned forward as it slowed, the brakes grinding as McCree tapped the pedals. Hanzo was immediately on alert, watching McCree lean forward over the wheel to peer out the windshield.

In the light of the high-beams was a shape covered in a black shawl.

They exchanged glances. “What is someone doing way out here?”

“There shouldn’t be anything nearby,” Hanzo murmured, itching to look down at the map. He didn’t dare take his eyes away though. That shawl could be hiding anything, and he needed to be alert.

The shape turned slightly and shuffled further to the side of the road as if to let them pass. McCree slowed the car even more and Hanzo dared to take a moment to scowl at him.

“Just bein’ friendly, Han,” McCree grumbled. “That’s the way it is, here. It’d be weirder if we _didn’t_ stop.”

McCree stopped beside the shape and Hanzo grudgingly rolled down his window so that they could talk. The shape turned as McCree turned on the cabin light and revealed herself to be an old woman.

Something about her made the spirits in Hanzo’s arm shift but they didn’t react more than that. They did that sometimes, reacting to a powerful aura about a person—and this woman, though stooped over beneath the chill of the night air and the whistling wind, walked like a queen.

“Hello there,” McCree called.

Hanzo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before turning to the old woman. She watched them, her dark eyes seeming to dance with wicked amusement. Her hair was tangled even with the protection of the shawl, and with the darkness of the night and the golden glow of the cabin light, Hanzo couldn’t quite tell what color it was. One moment it [looked like sand](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pele%27s_hair) and another it looked brown; another moment and the shadow of her dark shawl made it appear as black as night.

“Hello grandmother,” he greeted her with a diffident bow of his head. If his dragons reacted, then she was certainly someone to show respect, and from his brief time in town, he knew that elders were called _tūtū_ —grandmother.

“It’s not often that I see two young men like you driving down the road at this hour,” she said. With two gnarled hands she pulled her shawl back to reveal that she was wearing a garland of flowers over her head, one that he had heard the locals call _haku lei_.

He’d seen a few in town as well and the rest of the team had been thrilled to buy a few. They had sent Hanzo and McCree pictures. Mei had gotten one with [white and blue orchids](https://www.cindysleishoppe.com/blue-white-orchid-haku) to match her outfit. On Reinhardt’s enormous head it was too small to wrap around and instead had perched like a crown on his silver hair while he looked pleased with himself.

Hanzo and McCree hadn’t had much time to stop for more than a quick look, though. Their transport had run into issues, delaying their arrival. That was why they drove separately to the safe house, and why they were traveling so late at night.

The woman’s _haku lei_ didn’t match the ones that he had seen briefly in town, or the ones that the team had sent pictures of. It was woven of [dark leaves and strange plants](https://www.kuiandiflorist.com/product/leis-52/lehua-haku)—or perhaps they were flowers?—like spears in scarlet and gold like hair. Like fireworks. They were formed in little clusters so they must have been some kind of flower, albeit one that Hanzo had never seen before.

“We’re late to meet our friends, grandmother,” Hanzo told her diffidently.

That seemed to amuse her. “It must be important for you to drive down here so late at night. You don’t know what you might encounter.”

Hanzo bowed his head again. “This is true,” he agreed.

“Can we offer you a ride, ma’am?” McCree asked. “It’s cold out and as you said, you don’t know what you might run into out here.”

The woman smiled and Hanzo was inexplicably reminded of stories of Tricksters. But they were just stories...right?

This was just an old woman. He memorized her face: her dark complexion, the white flash of her teeth, her dark eyes. As a young woman, he was certain that she was a beauty, but with age she gained majesty at the cost of her beauty. Now she looked like a gnarled, weathered chunk of driftwood; she looked like she had weathered many decades and would weather many more if only out of spite. Her eyes dared him to comment on her age and apparent frailty.

He was all too familiar with that trap and said nothing and her eyes nearly disappeared into her wrinkles as she smiled.

“You know what they say out here,” she said with her Trickster grin. “Or perhaps you don’t. You’re not from here, are you?”

Without looking, Hanzo knew that McCree was giving her one of his roguish smiles. “Santa Fe, New Mexico,” he said, affecting a hint of twang to his voice. “Born and raised. My friend here’s from Japan.”

The old woman laughed, her voice surprisingly deep. “And where do you go?”

“To visit our friends,” Hanzo said firmly.

“Can we offer you a ride?” McCree asked again.

The woman smiled and her eyes once more seemed to disappear into her wrinkles. “I accept.”

Hanzo got out of the car to clear a space for her in the backseat. She thanked him and climbed in and he carefully closed the door behind her, unable to say why he felt so unnerved.

“Grandmother,” he said as McCree turned off the cabin light and shifted the car into gear again. If she was as much a Trickster as her wild eyes and grin implied, then perhaps it was best to placate her. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“I _am_ hungry,” the old woman mused as if surprised.

Hanzo dug around and pulled out some of the salted fish they had bought in town. Her eyes lit up as he offered the container to her. “Thank you,” she said as she bit into one.

“We have some fruit too,” McCree added. “Han, do you know where that cooler is?”

“Here,” Hanzo said, bending to lift the small cooler from its spot between his feet in the footwell. He pulled out another small container of [fruit dusted with red powder](https://www.feedingmyohana.com/li-hing-apples-and-pineapple-recipe.html).

The old woman smiled. “You spoil me,” she said and Hanzo turned to look at her as she began to eat.

“Where are you headed to?” McCree asked. “Do you live down this road?”

“I’m looking for my dog,” the woman replied. “He walks along here but I haven’t seen him.”

Hanzo frowned. “What does he look like?”

The woman’s eyes danced and that Trickster smile was back. “[He is a white dog](https://www.esrl.noaa.gov/gmd/obop/mlo/webmuseum/mlodog.html).”

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” McCree promised. “Shall we just keep driving down the road?”

“Oh, yes.”

They lapsed into silence. The woman seemed pleased with the offering of fruit and fish and seemed content to sit in silence. 

“Grandmother, where do you live?” Hanzo asked. “It’s late and surely we should take you home.” 

The woman laughed. “Kīlauea,” she said. “And if we pass it before we find my dog, then you may drop me off there. But it will be well past your safehouse.” 

Hanzo and McCree said nothing for a long moment. Her voice was too knowing and it was surely unwise to deny it. Though McCree didn’t have the help of Hanzo’s spirits to know that something was wrong, he could tell that his partner was on the same page as Hanzo: this was no ordinary passenger. 

“Do you have a smoke?” the old woman asked. 

McCree patted down his pockets, rocking in his seat as he continued to drive. “Ah, shit. Han, I think they’re in the glove box.” 

Unable to help himself, Hanzo made a face but obligingly reached for the handle of the door. As it popped open with a quiet click, the woman spoke again. 

“You’re here about the people at the observatories,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, ma’am,” McCree replied levelly. “They won’t trouble you much longer.” 

The woman laughed. “No, they won’t,” she agreed. There was something unnervingly final about her words. “I saw your friends earlier,” she added. “They seem like good people for all the shadows on them.” 

“They are,” McCree told her truthfully as Hanzo dug around in the glove box. “I’m sorry that they didn’t stop for you.” 

“I didn’t ask them to and they didn’t see me.” 

Hanzo paused. “Grandmother,” he said diffidently. “Would you tell us the stories of this place? We aren’t from here and you say that this place is dangerous.” 

“Not dangerous,” the woman replied with a laugh. “But not many dare to wander out here so late at night. They say that the goddess lives here, in these volcanoes.” 

As Hanzo’s fingers closed around the box of cigarettes in the glove compartment, he had a sneaking suspicion who their guest was. He didn’t dare speak his thoughts out loud, instead offering the box to the old woman in the backseat. She winked at him as she selected one and looked it over. 

“When you find your friends,” she said thoughtfully as Hanzo turned to put the box back and find her a lighter. “Bring out a bowl of food for my dog and leave it outside of the gate. _Then_ ,” she added with emphasis. “You should go to bed. No matter what, you should not look outside until morning.” 

It was puzzling advice, even knowing the... _unusual_ nature of their guest. 

“Ma’am,” McCree began and then paused. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She laughed. “Good boy.” Hanzo turned around to offer her the lighter and she laughed again. “Thank you, but no.” 

As Hanzo watched, she held up the palm of the hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette. The center of her palm glowed first pink then red and orange and gold like fire; it was hot enough that Hanzo could see ripples of heat in the air above her hand. 

It was hot enough for her to light her cigarette with a gentle touch. 

Hanzo felt a chill go through his body; his dragons were eerily silent. The woman laughed at his look of shock, winked at him, and vanished. 

Swearing, the car swerved as McCree struggled to regain control. The ancient brakes squealed and the tires screeched as they skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. 

The backseat was empty. 

Hanzo and McCree looked at each other and even in the absolute darkness of the night, lit by the impossibly bright moon and stars, Hanzo could tell that McCree’s face was ashen with fear. Even Hanzo wasn’t unaffected and he could feel his hands shaking. 

The containers of fruit and fish were in the backseat and there was the lingering smell of cigarette smoke that hung in the car but nobody was there. 

“That was her, wasn’t it?” McCree asked in a cracked whisper. 

Hanzo’s dragons rippled beneath his skin, filling the cabin with blue light. They were agitated—they hadn’t been respectfully quiet, _she had been keeping them silent_. “Yeah,” he whispered back. 

“Fuck,” McCree said with feeling. He shifted the car into gear and they drove off down the silent road. 

* * *

Mei and Reinhardt were outside of the safehouse when they pulled up and opened the gate for them to enter and park. 

“You just missed it,” Mei said with a cute pout. “There was a dog here. I think your car scared it away.” 

Chills ran down Hanzo’s spine. “That so?” McCree asked in a shaky voice. 

“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt asked, his brow furrowed. 

Hanzo and McCree exchanged glances. It was crazy, absolutely unbelievable, but...they had proof. They _knew_ what they saw—and Hanzo knew what she had done to his dragons. They still moved beneath his skin, frustrated at having been held in place and rendered silent by a goddess. 

It seemed that they had picked up McCree’s distaste for authority. 

They explained what had happened as they unloaded, and as Hanzo was unloading the last bag, he looked out and found a spot of white among the nearby rocks. 

A dog—a white dog, just as the old woman had said. 

He picked up the container of dried fish and placed it, as the woman had said, outside the gates. Perhaps it was a little salty for a mere dog, but this was the companion of a goddess—surely this would be different?

“Oh, it’s the dog,” Mei exclaimed softly. “Hanzo—”

“Don’t go any closer,” McCree said. “And go inside. You too, Reinhardt.” 

“You don’t think…” Mei trailed off. 

Hanzo bowed deeply to the dog and thought that he saw it bow its head back. He turned and ushered everyone inside. “The dragons reacted to her—or rather, she controlled them,” he told them urgently. “She was no mere woman.” 

“Was she our enemy?” Reinhardt wondered. “Could she be with Talon?” 

“Don’t ask,” McCree cautioned. “Don’t wonder. I reckon we should just do as she says. Just go inside, go to sleep, and don’t look outside until morning.” 

Mei and Reinhardt both visibly hesitated. “We shouldn’t turn down the advice from a goddess,” Hanzo said firmly. “Besides—briefing will not happen until well after sunrise. It would not hurt to follow her advice.” 

“I suppose that is true,” Reinhardt agreed. He looked back out at the dog once more. “I hope it will be alright,” he said before ducking into the house. Mei hesitated for a moment longer before following him. 

Hanzo and McCree traded glances before following them. Then came more discussion, bringing Tracer up to speed about what they had seen and what the old lady had said. In the end they closed all the windows and drew all of the curtains shut just in case. 

They all dragged their mattresses into the living room, unable to say why they were so unnerved. Sleep was slow in coming. 

* * *

The next morning they woke up to the morning light streaming in from the open windows. 

Looking at each other, they all ran to the windows and looked outside. 

The house was surrounded by a lava flow that still steamed in the cool morning air. They rushed to the front porch and stared out in wonder: the lava came up to the chain link fence but did not cross over. 

Despite the immense heat of molten stone, not even the grass on the inside of the fence had been charred or dried. Somehow the morning air was still brisk and cold, whistling over the land; they doubted it would feel that way if they approached the fence. 

Looking around, Hanzo swallowed hard; McCree cursed quietly under his breath. Seeing the direction of their gaze, Mei gasped and pointed. 

In front of the gate, where Hanzo had left the open container of dried fish was the container, amazingly untouched with a mark in the lava in front of it, as if something had crouched there. 

Something like a dog. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun writing this, especially since it's based on a lot of the urban legends and stories I'd heard growing up. 
> 
> Feel free to come and visit me on Twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus). 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
